Thinking
by SJlikeslists
Summary: Thoughts from Heather, Jake, Johnston, and Dale set around the time of Blackjack


Disclaimer: Jericho wasn't/isn't mine.

**What She Was Thinking**

I'm not stupid. I know that the world has become a never ending battle against chaos. I know that everyone has been a little bit busy coping with that. That doesn't change the fact that if he wanted to talk to me about what happened, he would have found a way some time in the past month. I get it. It's easier for him to just ignore it. Fine.

I mean it isn't like I didn't already know somewhere deep down that this was never going to work. It never works. I'm the "nice girl." The one who isn't neurotic and doesn't dig herself into holes from which she cannot extricate herself. The stand up kind of guys always go for the girls that need saving. I don't mean the damsel in distress scenario either. I mean saving in the "life is a whirlwind of confusion, and I need you to come knock some sense into it" kind of way. I will never be the one who is going to be running around pulling crazy stunts that require someone to come bail me out. I will never be the one who is going to need someone to give me something to build my life around. I will always be the one who sits behind the scenes making plans and problem solving in some logical, well-thought-out way. I will always be someone dependable whom everyone uses as their confidant and sounding board. I will always get a hug, a thank you, and a "you are such a great friend." They will always go back to their own lives, and I will always be sitting here alone. Nobody wants to listen to the problems of the problem solver. The prodigal shines under pressure man he never knew he could be will never end up with the woman who could have been his rock. I may know that we could have kept each other going, inspired each other, and a million other wonderful things. It will never matter because I will never need him to save me the same way she does. There will always be a difference between wanting and needing. Needing will always beat wanting. Always. Even when it means that you end up with something nice instead of something great.

Is it sad that when all is said and done, I will probably be happy for them? She is my best friend, and we "nice girls" are loyal. We want our friends to be happy. We want their lives to make sense. I guess an advantage of being the "good girl" is that I won't dwell. We don't do that. It isn't in our repertoire. We don't have time. There will always be someone else who needs our help, our talents, and our problem solving skills. We will always throw ourselves into that next project because wasting time dwelling would be selfish. We don't do selfish. I just need to find my project, my goal, my piece of the world that actually needs me.

I know it. I get it. I just wished that this time I was wrong.

**What He Was Thinking**

Do you know what the best part of being a screw up is? No one really expects anything from you. Oh, they may complain about being disappointed in you and all, but it's a vague "you could be doing so much better" kind of disappointment. They don't really expect to be able to depend on you or to have your help when they need it.

And suddenly here I am – the one they are looking at with expectations. The one they expect to have answers and come sailing in to save the day. Who volunteered me to save the world? Where did that come from? How did I end up the one everyone was counting on? Life is simpler when you're the screw up. You only have to worry about yourself. You don't have to worry about your decisions affecting other people. You don't have to care. You don't have to look people in the eyes and know that what you do or say next is going to be the reason that someone lives or dies. It is way too much. It's easier to not care. If only I could go back to not caring. What I wouldn't give to go hide myself in whatever the heck Mary is making in that still and be that screwed up kid I used to be. Nobody would really care what I did next because nobody would really be expecting anything from me. No wide eyed little kids would be staring at me like I'm supposed to be Superman. No people who shouldn't be giving me the time of day would be looking at me like I'm a knight who just came charging up on a white horse.

But I can't stop. I can't let them down. Because now they think that I'm better than that. I have to be because they need me to be. So, I can't go back to having it be about me. I don't have any time for it being about me. No more screwing up. No more blow off reality trips down memory lane. Everything I do from now on has to be about those people who are looking at me and expecting something. If only I knew what that something was. If only I was actually this person that they think I am. I know better. I know that I'm not the same kid who blew out of this town all those years ago, but I'm not the hero they're expecting either. I know what is waiting for me inside my own head every time I'm alone and pause for breath long enough that it can come out. All the accumulated memories of a lifetime of being a screw up and so much worse than just that punk kid I used to be all add up to a whole lot of darkness. Complete and utter darkness that is only kept at bay for now by this seemingly never ending race from one impending catastrophe to the next. Someday there's going to be nothing left to bury myself in. The darkness is going to break bounds and drown me – if I don't get myself killed first. All in all that might not be such a bad idea. That's fine. It's what I deserve. You can't just do all the things I've done and not expect to pay for them. But not right now. Right now, for whatever reason, I'm reprieved from the reckoning I'm due because they need me. I can't let them down. Because sometimes it all almost makes me believe that I could be better. So, I'll do what needs to be done. I'll take each crisis as it comes. And I'll make sure that when payment for my darkness comes due, nobody else gets caught in the flood.

**What His Dad Was Thinking**

He was a smart-aleck, irresponsible, little punk pouring his future down the drain as fast as he threw shots down his throat. I knew it. He knew it. The whole town knew it. That may very well be the hardest thing a parent ever has to do – watching a child speed toward self-destruction without being able to do a thing about it. You spend your time waiting for the phone call that tells you this time it has all gone too far, and you won't be seeing him again in this life. You try not to think about how you're going to pull his mother through when that time comes. It's painful watching all your hopes for a child's life, everything you know he is capable of becoming, being burned to ash in front of your face. It doesn't matter that you know he's better than that because he doesn't, and you sure can't tell him. You're only foolish old pop. What do you know about it? As far as he's concerned, the answer to that question is nothing. The boy still thinks I know nothing when it comes to him. He thinks I don't know he's kept in contact with his mama. If I knew as little about what goes on as that boy thinks I do . . . well best not to think about what kind of shape this town would be in today.

Funny how hard it is to stop thinking of him as a boy. Maybe it is because I've never really seen him be a man – not until now. I suppose I should be grateful that those bombs went off when they did and not a day or two later. They've given me something I wasn't sure I would ever live to see – my boy grown up. It's still hard watching him walk (more like throw himself) into danger. I used to worry about what he was up to around here. Then, I worried about what was happening to him out in the world. Now, I worry about what part of the chaos around us may take him from us at any time. Parents always worry, but it's different these days. I used to worry with straight out fear and a solid helping of anger; now, I worry with pride. If something takes him from us now, it will be because he was out doing things that needed to be done for all the right reasons. It won't hurt any less, but it will hurt in a different way. I am so proud of the leader I see in front of me that I could burst, but I don't know that he's ready to hear it. He's going to have to get ready soon. Something else those bombs have given me is the knowledge that I don't have nearly as much time as I always used to think I had. Things that are worth saying are worth saying right now. I see a man I can trust with the well-being of the people I've spent most of my life looking after standing over there, and it is high time for him to know it. Besides, judging from that conversation that is going on, he might need to know that old dad is around to talk things over with him. He's not taking this one to his mom – he knows better than that.

I'm smiling to myself while I listen to that little brunette giving him what for. My boy is turning out to be a good man and a dependable leader, but he's still an idiot. It's kinda nice to know he might still need me to teach him a thing or two.

**What the Kid Stuck in the Car with the Introspective Brooding Adults Was Thinking**

If I didn't know better, I would say everything was normal again – that I was sitting back in class at the high school watching some guy pout because some girl turned him down. Things are not normal. I'm trapped in this car with two adults (one brooding and the other being respectfully quiet), and my whole world has gone completely crazy.

I'm supposed to still be a kid. I mean I always used to think that I had to be pretty grown-up and self-reliant. Being the only child of a single mom will do that for you. Mom used to say that she was so proud of how well I could look after myself – I never had the heart to tell her that I was jealous of all the kids who didn't have to do that. I used to think that I was so used to having to take care of myself that being a grown-up and heading out into the real world was going to be so easy. I wasn't going to be one of those new adults who wasn't ready to be responsible and couldn't handle being on their own. I was going to be ready. I was going to be smart. I was going to have things that were mine. I was never going to have to be jealous of things I didn't have again. It all made sense in my head. Nothing ever works out the way you planned it. I'm on my own. I even have the store. It's mine, and I'm never going to be jealous of anyone again because no one is going to take it away from me. I just never planned a future that didn't have my mother in it. I never figured on not having her there when I needed to talk to her. I never really thought what it would be like to not have her around to catch me if I needed to be caught. I'm a self-reliant, responsible grown-up, but it's not what I expected. The things that I've realized today could fill up a book, but I would rather be sitting in a car filled with idle chatter than have to think about them. Too bad for me that's not going to happen. If I'm reading the facial expressions in the front seat correctly, I don't think there's going to be any small talk the rest of the way home.

I'm still supposed to have a kid's privilege of thinking that teachers aren't real people with real lives – even if it isn't my teacher. And if they do have relationships, it's supposed to be with other teachery type people. They're teachers; they're supposed to make sense. Aren't adults supposed to think things through before they make decisions? I mean . . . what was that back there? A break up? A really awkward good-bye between people who don't think the other one likes them? Who looks around this world and thinks "hey, I think I'll take a trip without a suitcase?" Who lets someone they care about take off with people they just met? I know I would never let . . . well, if the world has been flipped around enough that I'm where I am, then I guess the epitome of elementary teacherness and the famous resident "bad boy" can be into each other. And I guess being an adult doesn't mean that you always think things through.

I also realized today that I've never really been in trouble before. I've been in plenty of "kid trouble." Adult trouble is different. I always thought in the world after high school people who were really, truly evil would get what was coming to them. I've always known that life isn't fair, but I always thought that was with things like money and stuff and party invitations. People who were actually evil were supposed to be different. The good people were always supposed to stop them. Did the bombs change that? Or has it always been this way? So, when I took the part, I didn't really think anything would happen. I saw the signs and the hanging like everybody else, but that guy was bad. You aren't supposed to get in trouble for messing things up for the bad guys. You're just not. It's not right. Someone is supposed to fix it.

Being an adult was supposed to make life better, but it doesn't. Being an adult was supposed to make all your decisions easy to make, but it doesn't. Being an adult is just as confusing as being a teenager. Being an adult means you know things that you would have rather gone your whole life not knowing. Being an adult means seeing first hand how quickly everything can be over. Being an adult means realizing that the world is only ever going to be as fair and as right as you can fight to make it. Being an adult sucks.


End file.
